Alive
by LethalCrown
Summary: Amy and Dan are running from Pierce's Tomas'd agents when someone saves them. Has a lot of OCs. May include Jake/Amy eventually. T because it may get violent, there is poison, guns, and an aggressive cat. That was not a joke. By the way, there will be many cats in this story so if you have read Is Life Worth Living, you will know. IF U DO NOT LIKE CATS, better not read.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I've decided that I am just going to start the four fanfiction long story ideas I have so that I can just update when inspiration strikes. There will definitely be one-shots on various stories of mine explaining all of my OCs and their backstories eventually. My four stories are all going to be in different categories, (Loom, 39 clues, Avengers, and Percy Jackson), and I will try to update one a week, which will probably be the one that hasn't been updated longest.**

**Without further ado, I am presenting Alive, which takes place in the third series without any other cahills or Atticus and Jake helping Amy and Dan. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

Chapter one: On the run, saved by a…cat?

Amy ran, trying to throw the huge men off her trail. She wove into an alleyway, her brother alongside her, followed by Pierce's huge, burly enhanced men. Her heart stopped. This alley was a dead end. She and Dan backed up against the wall as they cornered them. She prayed desperately for a miracle, anything that could save them. Any of the other Cahills that were in the area.

"Don't think anyone is going to save you, kiddies, we had to take care of that little team that was helping you." The man spoke, grinning grotesquely. "And by take care of, I mean kill."

Amy's heart stopped. A well trained unit of Madrigals had been protecting them, and the man was not lying when he said he had killed them. More deaths because of me, she thought. "Look, it doesn't have to be this way!" she spoke frantically.

"But it does, girlie," the man said, drawing a long knife from a sheath at his side. "You ticked off the wrong people. If you play with fire, you get burned."

Amy tried desperately to think of something. Her brother looked up at her, a pleading question in his jade eyes. She had nothing that might get them out of this. The man in front of them had a knife and was leisurely striding towards them. Five other men, just as muscled as this one, were hanging back in the shadows, high powered machine guns on and trained on them, just in case they tried to make a move. The rain was pelting down, the night was frigid, and the alley had no exits. They were trapped. No supplies. No backup. No help.

"We'll give you what you want," Dan pleaded. "Just let us go."

The man laughed. "Unfortunately for you, what we want is you, dead. Unfortunately for you, our boss doesn't want you around. He doesn't need you, or information from you, or anything. All he needs is you dead. No money, no desperate cries for help. You are children. You should not have been a part of this. Now, you pay. With your lives."

The man came on faster, almost to them, when a clear voice rang through the deserted alleyway.

"Stop, or you die. Call your men off, or you all die. Harm one of the children, and you all die in the most painful way I can think of, which at the moment is flaying you alive, poisoning you, and feeding your liver to Mozart. Although, there was this type of execution I read up on Wikipedia called the Blood Eagle torture."

Amy and Dan looked up, shocked. Was this their miracle? But they didn't recognize the voice, and they could recognize most of the Madrigals who might have come to their aid. They could just make out a shadowy cloaked figure on the roof, holding something which was possibly a gun.

The man stopped, puzzled. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" the figure mused. "Interesting question. Do you want to know my name, who my parents and family are, or who I am? Because those are all very different questions."

"All of those," the man said. "Then we can talk."

"Very well," The girl said-they could see now that she was a girl-and jumped down to land in front of the man. She was wearing a black cloak over loose black pants and a tight black shirt, all of which were soaking, although she didn't seem to mind the rain. She was pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes, but you would never think of her in a dumb blond type of way. Her face, although pretty, was sharp and cold, and her ice blue eyes were hard and unyielding. She had holstered the gun they had seen in her hand and instead now held a knife in each hand. She spoke like she was native to a foreign country, with just a hint of an accent on her tongue, which helped her voice sound slightly like a hiss, threatening.

"My name is Zilya. Zilya Lukova. I am a Cahill, daughter of Madeline Cahill the ninth. I am a breeder of cats, the Russian blue mostly, and a trainer of cats. I would also consider myself an amateur feline veterinarian and," at this she gave a catlike grin. "A Lucian. Which means, you should take nothing I say for granted and prepare for betrayal."

With that, Zilya sprang. First at the man in front. He was extraordinarily strong, that was certain, but she was fast and agile. He went down with three blows, one to his stomach and two to his head. Behind him, the other guards aimed their weapons, focusing on this new threat. By the time they were ready to fire, it was too late. For them. She vaulted back onto the roof, effortlessly coming down behind the line of guards. She appeared to just touch one of them on the back of his neck, and he crumpled to the ground. The other men spun to face her, which didn't make any difference. She was obviously spectacularly trained. She whirled through their bodies like an obstacle course, and a moment after she had finished weaving around the last one, she turned and looked back. Like a row of dominoes, all of the men fell behind her.

Amy and Dan stared, wide eyed, at their savior. She looked about seventeen years of age, now that they could see her more clearly, and she immediately turned to them. Dan spoke first.

"How did you take them all out, just like that?"

The girl's lips curved slightly upwards in a feline grin. "Training. Rigorous training. From the time I was three up till now." She spoke with a slight accent, which, now that they heard it clearly, sounded distinctly Russian.

"Who are you? Really?" Amy asked. "I doubt Zilya is your real name." The girl's smile dissipated.

"I assure you, I am Zilya. Zilya Lukova Spaskaya. And we have much to discuss if you are going to survive tonight. You have only a few choices, and if you do not choose correctly, it may prove fatal."


	2. Chapter 2: Death is a matter of opinion

**Sorry I haven't updated in ages. I'll try to update more frequently.**

**Disclaimer: I own Zilya Lukova Spaskaya, Madeline Edith Cahill, Lukas Nikolivich Spaskaya, and Mozart the cat. No one else.**

Amy and Dan followed Zilya. What else could they do? She was obviously very well trained and lethal, and she had saved both of their lives, not to mention being a Madrigal. So they followed her as she stalked out of the alley. She had offered two options: that they follow her and her family, who were, she said, all Madrigals and would protect them. She had also offered that they could leave and try to get Pierce with no help whatsoever. Naturally, they chose to follow her. They couldn't really expect to survive on their own.

"My aunt has a car a couple blocks away," Zilya said, not slowing her pace a fraction. She was only about as tall as Amy, but she had an extremely long, quick stride that both of them had to struggle to keep up with. "She will give us a ride to our safe house, which also happens to be our main safe house, where we normally live."

"Why is your aunt waiting for you? And who is she? I know most of the Madrigals, but not you." Amy was slightly suspicious of the girl.

"You don't know any of us because we are covert madrigals. We train most of our lives to be the best at what we do. There are very few of us, the better to prevent a betrayal. Currently, there is just me, my mother, my father, his sister, my two younger sisters, although they aren't yet as qualified as I am. There is also my aunt's husband. That only amounts to seven people, which means we only go when we are really needed. My aunt… well, you'll meet her in a moment. Although, I believe you have already met her. She is waiting because my mom always wants me to have a way out, just in case I get into something that is beyond even my impressive skill set."

"How old are you?" Dan asked. "You look about seventeen, but-"

"Actually, I'm fifteen. Two years older than you, one year younger than your sister."

Both Dan and Amy stopped and stared at her disbelievingly. Finally, Amy broke the stupefied silence. "Then how are you so obviously adept at combat?"

This question seemed to amuse Zilya, although her face remained masklike. "I began training when I was three. Twelve years is certainly enough time to progress my skills to a point that would seem almost inhuman to many. Now come, we are nearly there."

Both Amy and Dan were shocked at this statement but Zilya was going so fast that they couldn't really spend any more time standing there trying to process her information. They jogged to catch up with her just as she turned the corner with them right behind her. The first thing they saw was a blond woman with icy blue eyes and blond hair leaning against a black minivan with darkened windows preventing anyone from seeing in.

But what was most surprising was that they knew the blond woman. It was impossible. Irina Spasky had died on that building in Indonesia. She had saved them from the fire that would've killed them and had sacrificed herself in the process.

But it was Irina. Her chiseled features looked far more worn, and she looked like she had lost a substantial amount of weight since they had last seen her. She had a long burn scar across her right cheek. But her blue eyes were as sharp and coldly intelligent as they had always been, almost glowing in the dark night. She wore a similar outfit to Zilya, with a tight black shirt, black pants and a long black cloak. Her eyes immediately jumped to them, taking in their every feature, before locking onto Zilya's blue eyes of the precise same hue. They resembled each other almost exactly, sharing the fair hair, blue eyes and a wiry yet muscled build. Irina took a step forward.

"Zilya," she acknowledged with a nod of her head, speaking shortly and professional, clipped. accented tone.

"Irina," Zilya spoke in a similar tone, a Russian accent creeping into her voice.

"You have completed your mission within the parameters set?" Irina asked.

"You're asking if I killed anyone," Zilya stated, anger creeping into her tone. "I'm not _you_, Irina. I'm not an assassin, not a spy."

"And your mother has forbidden you from killing anyone until you turn eighteen," Irina responded in a tone that was perfectly emotionless, although her eyes told a different story, hurt sparking in them at Zilya's comment.

Zilya looked as if she was about to respond, but Amy cut her off. "Would someone care to enlighten us on what is going on! You _died!_" Amy spoke with shock and anger evident in her tone.

Irina sighed. "Nothing is going on. As for whether or not I died, that is a matter of opinion. After I 'died', I found it would be wisest to disappear."

"But how did you survive? We saw you fall!" Dan exclaimed.

Irina gritted her teeth. "Someone saved me. Without a doubt, the most annoying, bothersome, irksome, mettlesome, moral, person who has ever walked this earth."

Amy looked to Zilya for an explanation. With the corners of her mouth turning up in amusement, Zilya said, "Her younger brother. My father, Lukas Nikolaivich Spasky."

"Lukas was always insufferably moral," Irina went on. "He criticized my involvement with Isabel-"

"He was right," Zilya interrupted. Irina ignored her and continued ranting.

"And then he had the nerve to go run off with that Madrigal-"

"My mother-"

"Yes, her, and then they had the nerve to get themselves put on the Lucian kill list-"

"Which wasn't technically their fault-"

"And then he had to get himself taken, presumed dead, by the Vespers-"

"Which, again, wasn't their fault-"

"And Grace blamed me for their disappearance and thought of me as a ruthless murderer, killer of both of her daughters and both of her son in laws-"

"A perfectly rational conclusion to draw-"

"And then their daughter decided she would like to ruin my life-"

"I don't think I was that bad-"

"And then it turned out my insufferable brother was alive-"

"Which should have been a cause for you to celebrate, rather than attempting to poison him and screaming in Russian that it was time for the ghosts to leave you alone," Zilya reminded Irina.

"And he startled me so much that I nearly stumbled into the flaming hole in the roof.

"But then he saved your life."

Dan decided to leave that subject alone. "Okay, and you expect to drive off with us? After all those times you nearly killed us?"

"I also saved your life and died, which would not have been necessary had you trusted me." Irina countered smoothly.

"But you didn't die," Dan replied. "And, just a question, is your brother as, you know, serious as you? And as murderous? Does he carry poison in his fingernails?"

"No." Irina responded shortly. "He takes absolutely nothing seriously."

Amy, meanwhile, was pondering something Irina had said. "Wait a minute, Grace didn't have two daughters."

"Yes she did," Irina muttered.

"No, she didn't!" Amy was vehement. "She only had one daughter, our mother, Hope."

"Mothers do not often like sharing details about their dead, or presumed dead, children." Irina said fiercely. "Grace never spoke of Madeline Edith Cahill because it would have brought painful memories into light."

For the second time, Amy was struck speechless.

"And she," said Zilya, "Is my mother. It was considered scandalous, you know. The brother of Irina Spasky, murderer, and the daughter of Grace Cahill, pacifist. In the years that followed, they found it best to lay low and all but disappear from the known Cahills. Because so few knew them, they decided to begin an even more rigorous training schedule and founded a group of covert madrigals that almost no one knew about. The only ones who knew, save for those who were members, were Hope, Grace, Nathaniel, Arthur, and Fiske, who is the only one still living who knows of us. When she nearly died, my parents offered for Irina to join. Because she was dead, she made an ideal agent, as no one knew of her."

"So, are you coming? Or do you care to stay behind and let Pierce's agents get you?" Irina asked. "I honestly don't know how long it will be until agents with the Tomas serum in their veins to come around after being injected with poison that could incapacitate several normal people, leaving them paralyzed for weeks, at least."

Amy exchanged a glance with her brother, weighing her options. Irina had saved their lives, but she was a Lucian, all the same. But they had to trust her. Either that, or risk being captured and killed by Pierce.

Seeing the resolve in her brother's eyes the same as the resolve in her own, she nodded, taking a deep breath.

"We'll come with you."


End file.
